


2 Shots, 4 Cubes

by LadyElaine



Category: Weak Hero (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, sponsored by covid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24704485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyElaine/pseuds/LadyElaine
Summary: His eyes connected with Stephen’s, who was giving him a comforting smile. He walked over with two cups of chocolate mocha and sat adjacent to him, sliding over a drink to him. Gray took it gratefully, wrapping his hands around the exterior and soaking in the warmth. “Sorry. They’re...”“It’s fine,” Stephen said, resting his face against his hand. “So you’re a teacher huh? Why didn’t you tell me?”“You never asked,” Gray replied, not meeting Stephen’s gaze. “You must think that’s kind of bizarre.”“Not at all. Smart guys are my type.” Gray’s mouth opened slightly and for the first time, Gray really looked at Stephen, eyes taking in Stephen’s tongue-in-cheek grin, almost hidden as he mischievously drank from his cup, waiting for Gray’s response.---A stranger visits the coffee shop where Stephen works and Stephen couldn't be more intrigued.
Relationships: Ben Park & Alex Go & Gerard Jin, Gray Yeon/Stephen Ahn
Comments: 26
Kudos: 129





	1. The Metamorphosis of a Marshmallow

**Author's Note:**

> I do this to the detriment of physics.

Stephen Ahn unconsciously touched the tattoo on his neck as he created a customer’s order. This particular customer had the habit of having at least seven specifications and he was unlucky to be the regular on the shift that took her orders.

“2 shots, four cubes...” he recited, adding the ingredients. He had taken the job at the coffee shop down the street from the main dormitories because he needed extra support to pay for his medications. The money his parents sent could barely cover the cost of housing and food. He would have to be a man and pay for his own drugs.

“Here you go ma’am,” he said, giving the girl hidden behind giant sunglasses a genuine smile. She frowned and snatched her drink off the counter without even a simple thank-you. 

Stephen shrugged internally and started writing down the next order for the person in line. Some people couldn’t be satisfied. It wasn’t his fault. He could only try to be a bright spot in what could’ve been a bad morning. Or six week’s worth of bad mornings, in her case.

He took the order for the last person in line and passed it off to his co-worker before leaning on the counter and looking over the shop.

Even though he took the job because he had no choice, he had to admit he loved where he worked. The shop had taken inspiration from all the hipsy students it often housed, with framed posters of multi-colored cans of chicken noodle soup and miscellaneous objects serving as center-pieces for the pale stain-glass tables. The front wall was completely covered with panes of glass, allowing for a nice view of the campus fountain outside for customers and a nice view of the shop inside for onlookers. As it was a coffee shop, the relaxing aroma of the freshly-brewed beverage was a steadying constant. Stephen loved reliability and his job offered just that.

The distinct chime of another customer entering beckoned him to stand at attention. It was a new customer. Those were always interesting.

Stephen Ahn paused....this one especially so. The customer who had entered was dwarfed by a giant puffy jacket that stopped short of his ankles. They were carrying a backpack bursting to the brim with books and their face was largely hidden by a hoodie and a large woolen scarf wrapped around their neck haphazardly. It looked like a feat of strength for them to take a single step forward.

Stephen glanced outside. It was snowing lightly and most people had simply worn a parka in a rush to get to class. Maybe this customer just really disliked snow. They waddled over to a table and loaded down their backpack. He watched with a sort of amazement as they began shedding layers, unraveling the scarf and slowly unbuttoning their giant overcoat. 

_ Like a metamorphosis _ , Stephen compared with slight amusement. From an overdressed winter marshmallow to...

...wow. The customer finally peeled off their coat to reveal a small, lithe boy in a pale blue sweater and messy ash hair which he proceeded to fix back to an acceptable state. Stephen had  _ not  _ been expecting that. 

The boy gathered all his belongings into one chair before digging out his wallet from a pocket in his backpack and approaching the counter, eyes focused on the digital menu hanging above Stephen’s head.

Stephen wondered what he’d go for. Maybe he was an Americano kind of guy. He looked like an art student and those guys liked to be pretentious and request coffee “black like my soul”. Or something like that. He didn’t pay attention to art students. Their antics got old very quickly. He suddenly hoped the new customer wasn’t an art student. Maybe he was a fashion student? His sweater fit his physique perfectly, though he had to admit that shade of blue wasn’t his favorite. He should've tried a darker blue. Or maybe white! White would’ve suit him perfectly. 

Stephen was still trying to decide on the customer’s outfit palette when he realized the customer had already decided and was waiting for him to ask for his order.

“Good morning!” Stephen greeted brightly. The customer’s sharp purple eyes flicked to the tattoo on his neck before they nodded back in greeting.

“What would you like to order?”

_ Please not number three. _

“Number five.”

_ Yes _ . Not an art student!

Stephen scribbled it down onto his notepad, trying not to show surprise at how soft the customer’s voice was. He hadn’t been expecting a super deep voice, but the streamlined and somewhat refined tone of his voice had definitely caught him off guard. 

“In-house or to go?”

Fingers crossed for in-house. Stephen was dying to see what he was all about. Maybe when his shift was over, he could sit down and have a conversation with the customer. 

“In-house.”

_ Yes! _

“Name please?”

“Gray.”

“Like your hair!”

The customer gave him an unimpressed stare. “Funny.”

Stephen smiled, unruffled by his biting sarcasm. He had definitely heard worse from people he had much less interest in. “That’ll be $4.15.”

The customer, Gray, slid a few dollars with a muffled “keep the change” while Stephen handed him his receipt and told him his macchiato would be ready in a few minutes. Stephen went to work on the drink while Gray sat down at his seat and pulled out a sleek, expensive-looking laptop from his backpack.

_ Maybe he’s rich _ , Stephen wondered as he steamed the milk, combining it with the espresso. Wouldn’t be the first time someone had sat down in the middle of the shop to show off their newest, exorbitantly-priced device. He never saw the point of buying the most recent device when another one would overtake it in a matter of months. It was an unending rat race to impress people who didn’t really care in the end. If it had been Stephen, he would’ve spent the money on his medication and maybe his rent. Something useful.

But somehow, he didn’t think Gray was the type to flaunt his money. He could’ve just as easily saved up for it by tutoring. Stephen liked that thought a lot better.

He capped the drink and opened his mouth to call Gray up when he thought about it twice and decided to bring Gray the drink himself. It wasn’t what he usually did, but he was just so  _ curious _ .

He carefully held the drink in one hand and a croissant he had bought spur of the moment in the other and walked over Gray, who was rapidly typing on his laptop.

“One macchiato and one croissant,” he announced, putting them right next to the laptop. Gray looked up at him in confusion.

“I didn’t order a croissant.”

“It’s on me,” Stephen said, offering up a friendly smile.

Gray only squinted at him, as if he was trying to figure out whether the barista was trolling or not. “...thanks, I guess.”

“No problem!” Stephen replied, bowing lavishly like the dork he knew he looked like. He didn’t miss it when Gray rolled his eyes. Stephen bit back a sigh of dejection before heading back to the counter, disappointed the customer hadn’t seemed even a little moved by his attempt at friendship.

A few more customers came in and Stephen tried his best to pay attention to them, his eyes constantly drifting back to the boy, who was slowly sipping his macchiato and blatantly ignoring the croissant. His shift was almost over when Gray snapped his laptop close and began packing up. He took his time suiting up in his winter gear before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and exiting the shop, leaving the croissant untouched on the table.

Stephen’s smile dipped for a moment, though he told himself that maybe Gray just didn’t like croissants. Yes, he’d just try something new the next time Gray showed up. Maybe he liked blueberry muffins? Everyone liked those.

Just as he was preparing to finish his shift, he winced at the tell-tale sting of the last of his medication wearing off. He briskly said goodbye to his co-worker before heading to the back to change into his own jacket. His tattoo was lightly throbbing by the time he vacated the building and burning by the time he finally reached his apartment near the student dorms. He hurried inside, slamming the door behind him before dumping his belongings on the couch and making a beeline for the bathroom. 

Making a point not to irritate the tattoo, he creaked open the medicine cabinet, eyes darting to the place where the small orange bottle should’ve been. His stomach dropped when he realized that he had taken the last of his medication last week and there were no more pills left.

_ Damn it _ . What was he supposed to do now? He had one more shift the next day and he wouldn’t be able to go to the drug store until it reopened on Monday. He inhaled deeply, accepting he would have to deal with it until then. He went to bed that night with a giant bag of ice lying limp over his neck.

The next day, he trudged into the store, gingerly moving so he wouldn’t accidentally trigger more pain in his neck. He pasted a customer-service smile onto his face, doing his best to pretend his tattoo wasn’t burning a brand into his muscles.

Dealing with the sunglasses girl was more than a little fun. She sneered as she picked up her order and he smiled but only half-heartedly this time. He didn’t have the strength to put on a happy face for her. Even  _ she  _ had looked at him strangely, more so than usual. Perfect.

His mood brightened slightly when Gray walked into the shop, once again clad in a significantly oversized coat. He went through the process of transforming into a human-being again, this time wearing a white turtleneck. Stephen couldn’t help but think he looked fantastic. He knew Gray would look amazing in white.

He pretended to not have been staring at Gray before sticking on another neutral smile as he approached the counter to order. “A macchiato again or are we feeling adventurous?”

Gray frowned. “What’s wrong with your face?”

Stephen had no words for that. He thought he had hidden it well enough. “What do you mean?”

“Your smile is fake.”

He grimaced, dropping the smile. “I work in customer service, so maybe your expectations are too high.”

Gray stared at him with a flat expression. “Can I order my macchiato then?”

“You sure have a sweet tooth...” Stephen murmured, writing it down. 

He was shocked when he heard Gray ask “What do you recommend?”

“Uh, I-- I like the americano they have here. Would you like to order that instead?”

Gray shrugged. “Why not.” He slid a few dollar bills over the counter before heading back to his table.

Stephen really didn’t know what to think. First, why was an americano the only thing that came to mind? He was a seasoned barista; he could definitely recommend better than that. Secondly, was Gray warming up to him? And why all of a sudden?

_ Well, I’m not complaining _ , he thought, even humming as he made Gray’s drink. Maybe this was Gray’s way of saying he was open to some interaction. Stephen had all kinds of questions. He wondered what Gray studied, if he had a job, why he always wore that humongous jacket...

He turned around with the drink prepared but paused when he saw Gray had vanished from his table. All his belongings were still there, including his laptop, but Gray himself was nowhere to be found. 

Stephen thought it was pretty reckless of Gray to leave all his property in the middle of a public cafe. What if someone had stolen it? 

_ Not that I would’ve let them _ , he thought, placing the coffee at the table. Upon closer inspection, his laptop really was the newest model. And his backpack brand wasn’t cheap either. 

Another question to add to this list: where did he get all his money from?

His focus shifted to the door when it chimed again. He was astonished to see it was Gray, snow dusting his hair and shoulders and an unfamiliar red delicately tinting his cheeks. He had gone out into the cold without his jacket. Today was significantly colder than yesterday, and people had actually dressed in thick clothing this time. What had he been thinking and why had he left in such a rush?

“You left this here,” Stephen said, gesturing at the entire table and giving him an annoying smile. Gray sniffed and wiped at his cheek. It was only then Stephen saw the small white plastic bag hanging from his hand. “What’ve you got there?”

Gray brushed off some snow from his shoulders before approaching Stephen and shoving the bag into his face. 

“...what? That’s for me?’

Gray nodded, before depositing it into Stephen’s hands and dropping into a seat at the table, quickly curling his hands around the warm cup of americano. He didn’t deign to explain any further and started typing on his laptop again.

Stephen gave him a small smile Gray didn’t notice and walked back to the counter, only opening the bag once he was sure no more customers were waiting. His eyes widened as he pulled out a small bottle of painkillers and a packet of antidepressant pills. H-how had he known? Nobody knew except his parents and a few others, so how had Gray--

He looked up at Gray, who was diligently disregarding him and taking small sips of the americano, slightly scrunching up his face every time at the bitter piquancy. Now he  _ had  _ to question him. But to his dismay, Gray left much earlier than he did previously and Stephen was helping a customer at the time so he never got the chance to talk to him. 

And he didn’t show up for another three days. Stephen was keeping torturous track. He had no idea how to contact Gray outside of their interactions at the shop. He didn’t know where Gray studied or worked or if he was even a student at the university. He knew nothing about Gray at all.


	2. Hopes and Drugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shazam.

When he finally showed up on the fourth day, Stephen couldn’t help but light up like the pre-maturely placed Christmas tree in the corner of the shop. 

“Gray!”

The small boy startled in his winter shell, visibly jumping in his coat. He relaxed when he saw it was just Stephen and waddled to the counter. Stephen leaned over it, hands under his chin, and a cheery expression stuck on his face. Gray was just so adorable and mysterious at the same time. For the three days, he had been gone, it had wrecked Stephen. He hated knowing so little about someone who seemed so interesting.

“Look who’s back.”

“I don’t drink coffee every day,” Gray said, deadpan. 

“Fair enough. What can I recommend you this time?”

“Nothing. The americano sucked.”

Stephen’s jaw dropped before he burst into laughter, leaning back. He hadn’t expected an answer that blunt. But then that was what he liked about Gray. He was full of surprises, the medicine apparently being the least of it. Speaking of...

“Then can I ask about last time, when you bought that medicine?” 

“It was a favor, as thanks for the americano. So now I don’t owe you anymore.” 

But that didn’t answer how he knew in the first place. Stephen reckoned that would require an actual conversation instead of a quick exchange at the counter Gray seemed eager to end as quickly as possible. After taking his order (a frappuccino this time), he scrawled “talk after my shift?” under Gray’s name on the cup. Gray took one look on the cup and told Stephen, rather harshly “I have better things to do''. Then Gray had taken his drink and again, ignored Stephen the entire time. It hurt but Stephen figured he was making progress.

So for the next two weeks, he did the exact same thing, writing a hopeful “wanna chat?” or “stay a little longer?” under Gray’s name every time he ordered. He was rejected every time but he didn’t miss Gray’s small smile on the last day when he had drawn a tiny smiley face next to the message. It happened so quickly Stephen could’ve imagined it, but he knew what he saw and he was excited. He was making headway!

Then Gray disappeared for another week and Stephen was wondering what he did wrong. Of course, he knew it most likely had nothing to do with him. Gray obviously led a life outside of the shop, but he was disappointed nonetheless. He missed seeing Gray carefully waddle to his regular table and transform into a small beautiful human being who was immersed in his own world at his laptop and had a penchant for choosing the sugariest drinks. He hoped his incessant requests hadn’t driven him away.

* * *

Then one day, on a particularly cold and uneventful morning, Gray tumbled through the entrance, coatless and with panic scrawled across his face. He was lying on the floor, inhaling harshly, his chest was heaving up and down. Stephen’s eyebrows shot up in alarm and he wasted no time leaving his post to go see what was wrong.

“What happened Gray?” he asked, quickly kneeling down beside him. Gray made a pained expression, his eyes darting to the door. Stephen glanced at the entrance, though he didn’t see any apparent threat. He looked back at Gray and wondered what he should do. 

Well, first was calming him down and making sure he wasn’t injured. His eyes quickly grazed over Gray’s body and he was distressed to see a dull bruise purpling on his arm. Resisting the urge to question who had done that to him, he took Gray’s hands and helped him up. Gray’s fingers were cold and fragile in his, more delicate than Stephen could’ve imagined. He could barely stand and rigid puffs of air left his mouth in a frantic effort to breathe. 

He just looked so small and vulnerable in that instant, Stephen felt a strong need to protect him. He wordlessly led Gray to the back room where the employees kept their belongings and sat him down on a bench next to the lockers. He rustled around the general cabinet for a medicine kit before finding one and bringing out a small roll of bandage.

He kneeled in front of Gray and gently took his wrist.

“Can I...”

“Do your worst,” Gray said, completely indifferent aside from the pain. Stephen began wrapping gauze around the bruise on his arm, not experienced in bandaging up people, but aware of how much pain Gray could’ve been going through. He had a scar of his own.

“Am I allowed to ask?” he said, eyes fixed on Gray’s arm.

Gray ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I guess you’re entitled to know.”  
Stephen listened attentively as Gray explained. “See, I have these friends. Well, I wouldn’t call them friends. Maybe clingy acquaintances. They just like hanging around me for complicated reasons.”

“I don’t reckon you have any friends.”

Gray shot him a withering look.

“...I’ll shut up.”

“Thank you. So said acquaintances are students at the university, but they’re also part of this coalition of gangs called the Union.” 

Stephen paused and stared at Gray, who stared right back. Nothing about the injured, petite boy in front of him screamed smoking cigarettes, getting into fights, or illegally dealing drugs.

“Yeah, I’m not sure how I got into it either,” Gray muttered, closing his eyes and sighing. “But they’re not bad guys. They usually like to avoid trouble because they're a bit busy trying not to fail their classes. But seeing as they are in a gang, there are naturally rival gangs. That’s where the problem starts.

“My friends have no problems defending themselves. I’ve been stuck in the middle of one of their fights before and if I were to be totally honest, they’re impressive. But as you can see, I’m not much to look at.”

“I disagree.” It slipped out before Stephen could even think about it. He reddened and rushed to amend his words. “Uh-- what I meant was that you’re not ugly. Definitely not. You’re kind of nice-looking, actually. Pretty, I’d say”

Gray squinted at him. “Right. Well, the rival gang, they see this shrimpy ‘pretty’ boy likes to hang out around with their buddies and they decide that if they can’t touch the main course, they’ll settle for dessert. Thus, before I can get to class every morning, two or three of them set up past my dorm, right behind the dumpsters where they won’t be caught by the admin here. They usually have a brick or a baseball if I’m lucky, and oh look, Gray’s outside, time for target practice. Sometimes, they don’t even throw anything. They just punch me until they get bored.”

He laughed humorlessly and Stephen could hear the sadness hidden behind the hollow sound. He hated it. He really really hated it. “Why don’t you tell your friends, Gray?”

“I wouldn’t wish their wrath upon my greatest enemy,” Gray replied with a mean smirk. “And besides, I’ve figured out a solution. Turns out I’m not so fun to hit when I’m three layers deep in insulation.”

Ah. That explained his marshmallow get-up. Stephen wished he hadn’t worn it for such a depressing reason.

“So what happened to today?”

Gray looked hesitant before telling him. “They ambushed me. I was getting ready for my classes when they broke into my dorm and wrecked the entire place. They stole my stuff and they hit me a few times before I managed to escape. I wasn’t sure where to go for help, then I remembered I kind of knew someone at this place so I came here. Sorry for the dramatic entrance, by the way.”

“Hey, don’t apologize!” Stephen exclaimed, gripping his hand. “You must’ve been scared.”

Gray stared at him for a moment before harshly turning away. “It’s not your fault. And I’m not scared. I’m not scared...” His face scrunched up before hot tears filled his eyes. “I’m terrified. God, I’m so terrified.” He took a deep calming breath and rubbed at his face, tears streaking his cheeks. It was a furious motion as if he was mad about crying in front of Stephen in the first place.

“Gray, I’m going to hug you.”

He laughed again, the sound miserable. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Stephen Ahn.”

He nodded. “You already know, but I’m Gray. Gray Yeon.”

“I’m just a broke barista and I don’t think I can go up against the Union for you, though I would if I could but...I hear physical contact helps when you’re sad.”

“I’m a bit more than sad, so thanks but no thanks,” Gray said. His eyes shifted to the hand Stephen had kept on an unconscious grip on. Stephen quickly let go, embarrassed, and Gray lifted up his arm to inspect the bandaging job Stephen had done. He seemed wholly unimpressed by the thick cast Stephen had encased his arm in, covering the bruise fifty times over. “...you’ve never done this before, have you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Gray smirked and gave Stephen a curious little snort. “It’s the thought that counts.” He winced at a pain that seemed to originate from his side. Stephen wished he could help Gray there too, but other than the thought of seeing Gray shirtless flustering him endlessly, he didn’t think he could actually be of any assistance, as demonstrated by his bad bandaging. 

“I need to get to the hospital,” Gray grumbled, standing up weakly and starting to advance towards the door.

“What if those guys are outside waiting for you?” Stephen exclaimed, uneasy and not quite ready to let him go out alone.

“I’ll deal with it,” Gray sighed. “You’ve already done enough. I appreciate your letting me bug you, Stephen.”

Stephen was half worried, half swooning because his name coming out of Gray Yeon’s mouth was beautiful. 

“Give me your number,” Stephen abruptly said, startling Gray. “I-if you ever need someone to talk to or to help you out or something.” He awkwardly pulled out his phone and held it out to Gray. 

Gray analyzed Stephen’s stance for a moment before deciding he wasn’t trying to trick him. He took the phone from Stephen and saved his contacts into his phone. “Thank you.”

 _No, thank_ **_you_ **, Stephen thought, pretty much over the moon. Gray Yeon wasn’t just an infrequent customer at the coffee shop anymore. They now were connected in some other, more personal way. 

“I’ll walk with you to the hospital,” Stephen said, pocketing his phone after re-saving Gray’s contact as “το ara m είναι”. 

“What about your shift?”

Stephen shrugged. “It’s a slow day. And my co-worker will be here any minute so don’t worry about it.” Just then, the backroom door opened and said coworker looked a bit surprised to see Gray and Stephen there.

“Uh...hello?”

“Jeremy, I’m taking this customer to the hospital so could you cover for me?” Stephen piped up, rushing to put on his coat and taking Gray Yeon’s arm in his to emphasize how urgent it was. 

“Sure thing,” Jeremy responded. “Just hurry back.”

“You’re the man, Jeremy,” Stephen cheered, thumping him on the back on the way out. A few customers were in line and Stephen gave them an apologetic look before exiting the shop with Gray. Cold wind and snow blasted them from the side and Gray shivered, unprotected. Stephen immediately took off his coat and placed it over Gray’s shoulder.

“But you need your coat too,” Gray argued. “What happens if you catch a cold and you aren’t able to go to work?”

“Please indulge my capabilities to take care of you, Gray Yeon,” Stephen said, crossing his arms, refusing to take it back. “You can keep the coat until further notice.”

“But I barely know you.”

“This sounds like an invitation to have a conversation.”

“I guess that’s what you always wanted, huh.” They began walking in the direction of the university hospital, quite a bit away from the shop.

“Yep, just what I wanted,” Stephen answered, giving Gray a smile which the latter chose to counter with a frown. Ever the skeptic. “But since you’ve already answered most of the questions I wanted to ask, I want to know the small stuff.”

“Like what?”

Stephen thought for a moment. “What’s your favorite tv show?”

“I don’t watch tv.”

“Then who’s your favorite celebrity?”

“Carl Jung.”

“Ah, so you’re into philosophy.”

“It’s a hobby.”

“So what do you do when you’re not reading The Red Book?”

“Getting attacked by high school dropouts is a fun activity.”

“You’re very sarcastic.”

“So it’s been said.”

Stephen hesitated before asking the next question. “Are you dating anyone?” It wasn’t likely that he was since Gray had said he didn’t know who to turn to, but he had to ask.

“No.”

Stephen bit back a victorious smile. “What’s your type?”

“I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Aw, why not?”

“We’re not friends.”

“To be fair, you did spill your guts about your bullying situation just a few minutes ago.”

“You asked for context, and I gave it to you.”

“Gray...” Stephen whined.

“Stop it.”

“I’ll fly to Greece, pick up an olive branch, fly back to Korea and offer it to you as an offer of friendship.”

“You can barely afford your own medicine,” Gray scoffed. “Buying plane tickets would kill you.”

“Read me like a book. Very impressive.”

“It’s a gift,” Gray muttered. But he was sporting a small smile and that emboldened Stephen just a little bit.

“I like you.”

“If you wanted free tutoring, you could’ve just asked.”

“No, I mean it!”

“My hours are between 3 and 5 PM.”

Frustrated, Stephen blurted out, “Why are you so difficult to talk to?”

Gray fell silent and Stephen hoped he hadn’t hurt his feelings. That was the last thing he had wanted. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried so hard when it was clear Gray wanted to keep his distance. 

They trudged along the sidewalk for a few minutes, the air between them dense and awkward. Stephen was wondering how to fix the situation when Gray spoke up.

“I know that I’m hard to talk to. But this is the first time anyone outside of the gang has actually made an effort to befriend me,” Gray said softly, his voice nearly muffled by the wind blowing through the campus. He pulled the sides of the coat closer to his body, trying to keep in the warmth he had. 

Stephen said nothing in response, only staring at Gray. The fur linings of the coat’s collar came up to Gray’s cheeks, and snow haloed his ash-white hair. He was doing his best to keep up with Stephen’s long strides and little huffs of exertion left his lips every few seconds. He was looking down at the path as if he was counting every step they took to their destination. He just looked so small compared to the shops, the lit-up lamp posts, the people they passed, everything. As if it were him against the world.

Imagining Gray waking up every morning, dreading going outside because he knew he would be attacked, made Stephen want to cry. 

“Thank you for helping me,” Gray continued. “You didn’t have to go this far for a stranger, but you did. You possess uncommon kindness, Stephen.”

“It was the right thing to do,” Stephen said, shrugging him off. “Just promise me you’ll call those friends of yours and tell them what happened. They’re the ones who can really deal with this.”

“Alright.”

They stopped, finally in front of the hospital. 

“You’ll be okay from here then?” Stephen asked, turning to Gray. Gray nodded.

“I’ll come see you at the shop tomorrow.”

“Pinky promise?”

Gray scoffed and started walking into the hospital. “We’re in college, idiot. Real men take blood oaths.”

“What if I’m afraid of blood?” Stephen called out, a giant grin on his face.

“Then buy me a coffee tomorrow instead,” Gray yelled back, not looking back. He entered the hospital and left Stephen on the sidewalk with his heart doing jumping jacks and front flips in his rib cage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I pass physics before I finish posting this entire fic, I'll write 3 ministories based on Weak Hero to celebrate.


	3. The Alliance

Gray visited the shop a lot more after that day. He walked into the store with his usual marshmallow garb and peeled off the layers like a winter onion. He would sit down, open his laptop (which he told Stephen his friends had taken back from the rival gang in a violent fight to the death. Stephen was very eager to meet these friends Gray had.) and warm up the system. Then he would give Stephen exactly one lopsided smile before ordering. They got into a sort of habit where Stephen ordered Gray something he thought he might like, with Gray either complimenting his choice or roasting his lack of taste. From that, he learned Gray had an uncrushable sweet tooth and hated americanos with a burning passion.

Then one day, Gray rushed into the shop with a panicked expression. Stephen’s alarms automatically raised, worried there had been another invasion. But Gray didn’t look hurt and he had no trouble scrambling to the counter and grabbing the corner Stephen’s work apron.

“What’s wro--”

“They’re  _ coming _ ,” Gray whisper-screamed, looking back at the door nervously. 

“Who’s coming?”

“My friends, the acquaintances! Their classes were canceled and they followed me here!”

So Stephen was finally going to get to meet the famed thugs he had heard so much about. 

“Stephen, listen to me,” Gray pressed on, the urgency in his voice rising. “Tell everyone here to leave. That you’re closing up shop or whatever. Whatever you do,  _ don’t  _ let them stay here.”

“Aren’t you being a little--”

The doorbell chimed. Gray shot to his table like a missile and stuck his face into a giant mathematics textbook, trying to hide.

Stephen had to admit he was excited. It wasn’t very often hoodlums visited the shop. He wondered what they were like.

What he hadn’t expected were the two mild-mannered boys in clean clothing and nice haircuts that entered the shop. The taller one with reddish-brown hair and impressive looking muscles was amiably laughing at something the shorter one with a black undercut and a scar across his nose had said. They looked like frat boys. Stephen was very confused as to why Gray was trying his very hardest not to exist.

“Hi there, how can I help you?” Stephen said, a wide smile on his face. 

“Are you Stephen Ahn?” the tall one said. Stephen nodded and the former broke out into a big friendly smile. “So you’re Gray’s buddy!”

“And you’re his gang acquaintances,” Stephen replied, taken aback by the welcome tone of his voice.

“Is that what he calls us?” the shorter one remarked, crossing his arms indignantly. “We’ve told him over and over again we’re not in a gang. Gangs are lame. We’re an alliance.”

“I’m Ben Park,” the tall one, Ben, said, extending his hand to Stephen. Stephen took his hand and was robbed of all control of that body part. Ben’s grip was deathly strong, as if he had shaken hands with a human pressure cooker. His smile wobbled, and Ben pulled him in menacingly, eyes viciously connecting with his. “If you mess with Gray, you’re going to die.”

“N-noted.” Ben let go and smiled cheerfully as if he hadn’t just threatened Stephen’s life.

“I’m Alex Go,” the shorter one said, waving off Stephen before he could even offer to shake his hand. “Have you seen Gray by any chance? He told us he was coming here.”

“Uhmm...” Stephen’s eyes darted to Gray before looking back at the two boys. “Would you like to order something?” He waved Jeremy over to take the order while he went to the back to set things up. Jeremy looked mildly terrified but stood at the ready nonetheless.

Ben hummed, a hand thoughtfully placed under his chin. “I’ll take two, no three double cheeseburgers, two medium fries, and three cans of soju. Actually, you guys wouldn’t happen to have mustard-flavored banana milk?”

“S-sir, this is a coffee shop,” Jeremy replied weakly. 

“What?”

“They don’t have your nasty mustard-juice here,” Alex interjected, rolling his eyes. Ben slumped in disappointment and Stephen barely held back a laugh as Alex ordered them two cups of “scalding-hot all-organic almond milk because it’s chilly and Ben catches a cold like he catches these hands”. 

“Don’t make me drink your vegan stuff, Gogo,” Ben whined. Alex patted him on the back as he paid.

“You’re saving the planet, big guy.”

Ben brightened as Gray’s book accidentally fell forward, bringing attention right to his location. “Gray! We were looking for you!”

“Great,” Gray drawled, a cringey smile on his face. The two boys loudly dragged chairs to him, an irritable screeching noise reverberating through the shop. 

Gray looked like he wanted to die right there.

The doorbell chimed once more and their heads swiveled to see an abnormally tall boy with green hair hiding his eyes, who was looking a little lost.

Ben stood up, a cake-eating grin on his face. “I hope you like the smell of garlic and fish sticks because Gerard Jin has just entered the building!” Ben and Alex sniggered uncontrollably as the kid fisted his hand and stomped over to their table while Gray slid further and further down his seat. 

“I  _ don’t  _ smell like garlic and fish sticks!” Gerard said, slamming his hand down on the table. “Gray. Tell them I don’t smell like garlic and fish sticks.”

Gray ignored him and instead asked if he had passed his physics test. 

Gerard smiled nervously as he took a seat of his own. “Ehehe no, I got distracted.”

“You should take up yoga,” Alex piped up. “It’ll help you focus your--”

“Don’t listen to gluten-free Brian,” Ben interrupted. “What you really need is a date.”

Gerard inclined, dangerously tipping the chair. “A date, huh?”

“You know that one girl from recreational cooking, with the glasses--”

“Ugh, not her, she has issues.”

“I hear she’s a vegan too,” Alex said thoughtfully. “Maybe I could--”

“I thought you were crushing on that one guy with the purple hair from the Union...uh...Wolf Keum?”

“I’m not into bad boys,” Alex sulked, though his eyes did glaze over a second. 

“You two have such bad taste,” Ben sighed. Leaning forward conspiratorially, he said “You know who you should go after, Gerard? That one girl from the swim class.”

All three of them ooh-ed simultaneously, nodding in agreement.

“I bet she’s one of those girls who won’t accept a guy shorter than 6 feet,” Alex grumbled.

“You’d grow taller if you didn’t eat grass for a living,” Gerard snickered.

“Wanna fight?”

“Sorry, I don’t fight Keebler elves.”

Alex roared and leaped over the table to tackle Gerard, knocking down several chairs in the process. Ben tried to pull them apart--“guys guys, not here”-- but got sucked into the fight as well.

Alex was about to punch Gerard for a fourth time when he abruptly stopped. “Wait, you didn’t order yet. You’re technically loitering.”

Gerard paused his counter-punch midway. “Oh shoot you’re right. Get off me so I can get something real quick. We can continue this later.”

“Deal.”

They picked themselves up, dusting off their clothes, and Ben and Alex meekly put the seats they had knocked over back in their place as Gerard went to the counter.

“Nice tattoo,” Gerard said, nodding at the design on Stephen’s neck. 

Stephen stuttered out a thanks, stunned at the sudden contrast of Gerard’s mannerisms. All of theirs, actually. Gray’s friends were unique, to say the least.

“Can I get a black?” Gerard asked. Stephen nodded and as he was passing the order along to Jeremy. “You’re Gray’s new friend huh?”

“That’s me,” Stephen said, smiling at them acknowledging him as Gray’s friend. 

“How’d you get to know him?”

Gerard seemed genuinely interested. Stephen wondered how he could sum it up without revealing he was enamored with the boy currently doing his best to tell Ben and Alex to keep it down, distraughtly waving his hands at them. “Uh...he came into the shop one day and I guess...we just clicked.”

Gerard tilted his head curiously. “That’s funny. Gray doesn’t click with anyone.”

“I guess you’re right,” Stephen laughed. “Trying to become his friend was like trying to fit a square into a circle. But we’re alright now.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be simping?”

Stephen blushed. “W-what?”

Gerard laughed. “It’s so obvious. Nobody tries that hard to get all buddy-buddy with the quantums teacher.”

“...what?!”

“Gray teaches quantum mechanics here. Didn’t he tell you? Me and those clowns over there are taking his class.” 

Stephen didn’t know what surprised him more. That Gray was a professor at the university or that his friends were taking quantum mechanics. Probably the latter. But he looked over at Gray with new eyes, ascertaining just how extraordinarily intelligent he was. Maybe he should’ve been able to guess from all the books that were shoved into his backpack or even the fact that no regular college student was able to afford to buy coffee every single day. 

Gray was smart. 

_ That is so hot _ , Stephen thought, more smitten than he thought his heart could manage.

“Yep, definitely simping,” Gerard chuckled, taking his coffee and shaking his head. “Good luck bro.”

“Er--thanks...” Stephen trailed off, just a tiny bit guarded. He hoped Gerard wouldn’t tell Gray. Before he could even call out to Gerard and beg him, Gerard turned around and motioned locking his mouth and throwing away the key. Stephen nearly crumbled in relief.

Gerard sat down at the table with the rest of them, took a sip of his coffee, then promptly spit it out, right into the potted plant placed in the middle of the table. 

“Damn, that’s nasty,” he said, a candid look of disgust as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Who drinks this?”

“You should drink almond milk,” Alex said, self-righteously taking a long drink. “It’s good for your health.”

“...just stick to quantum mechanics, Dr.Phil,” Ben muttered, patting Alex on the back sympathetically as Gerard took a lengthy swig of the black coffee just to spite him.

“Can you guys go?” Gray finally said, looking tired. “You’re bothering everyone here.”

“Yeah, let’s go guys,” Ben said, standing up with the almond milk untouched. “We gotta let Gray do his teacher stuff.”

“Okay,” Gerard said, happily tossing his cup into the trashcan at the door. “But he’s not fooling anyone, we all know he’s secretly writing Y/N kpop fanfiction.”

All three of them burst out laughing while Gray shot them an incredulous look. 

“We’ll see you in class later,” Alex called out as they left the shop with Gerard telling Alex, “Ben said it was my turn to use the Xbox” with Alex replying “Fight me for it, fish sticks.” They could still be heard yelling even as the door closed.

Gray deflated, relieved they were finally gone. His eyes connected with Stephen’s, who was giving him a comforting smile. He walked over with two cups of chocolate mocha and sat adjacent to him, sliding over a drink to him. Gray took it gratefully, wrapping his hands around the exterior and soaking in the warmth. “Sorry. They’re...”

“It’s fine,” Stephen said, resting his face against his hand. “So you’re a teacher huh? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked,” Gray replied, not meeting Stephen’s gaze. “You must think that’s kind of bizarre.”

“Not at all. Smart guys are my type.” Gray’s mouth opened slightly and for the first time, Gray really looked at Stephen, eyes taking in Stephen’s tongue-in-cheek grin, almost hidden as he mischievously drank from his cup, waiting for Gray’s response. 

Gray smiled shyly, almost awkwardly. “Um...don't you want to know how I got the job?”

“You graduated high school early?”

“Yep.”

“Then you got your Ph.D.?”

“Not yet,” Gray said. “I understand it, but I’m not qualified to get the degree yet.”

“But you’re qualified to teach it?”

Gray shrugged. “The staff here had their hands tied. Either give me a dorm and let me teach the class or let me slip through their hands and go professor-less.”

“They really couldn’t find any professors who wanted to come here?”

Gray giggled. “You’re funny.”

Even though he knew Gray was making fun of him and his lack of knowledge about what made the university so undesirable, Stephen couldn’t focus because the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Gray Yeon had just giggled. And it was  _ melting  _ him like a popsicle in the middle of a heatwave. 

“No professional in their right mind would want to teach so close to the epicenter of an illegal drug-ring,” Gray explained. “Except me of course.”

“Wait, illegal--”

Gray pressed a hand against Stephen’s mouth, looking around collusively. “Don’t say it so carelessly,” he said in hushed tones. “The Union doesn’t take kindly to people knowing about their real operations. As far as anyone here knows, they’re just a bunch of annoying high school dropouts who loiter around the campus.” Assured no one in the shop had heard them, he eased away from Stephen and began packing up his things. 

“You’re leaving already?” Stephen asked, standing up to help Gray put his materials into his backpack.

“I’ve got a class of halfwits to teach,” Gray said, shoving his laptop into a compartment. Stephen handed him his inner jacket and their hands brushed halfway, sending a spark up Stephen’s fingers. He and Gray exchanged looks, neither saying anything before Gray broke it off, and took his jacket back. “Thanks for the mocha.”

“Yeah, happy to,” Stephen replied, trying his best not to give away the fireworks going off inside his head. He waved goodbye as Gray left the shop, looking down and frowning at something on his phone. He seemed worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really abandoned my responsibilities to post this, guess I'll die


	4. Chocolate and Croissants, Mayhaps

Later that night, as he was settling down to sleep, Stephen’s phone buzzed. He reached over from his nightstand to retrieve it, surprised to see it was a text from το ara m είναι . 

It was Gray.

Stephen immediately sat up, eager to see what was up and why Gray had texted him so late at night. He was too embarrassed to admit he was hoping Gray was calling him for a midnight rendezvous at a lighthouse, or some other romantic cliche.

**Gray** : can I ask you a favor?

Stephen tilted his head in confusion. What type of favor could Gray Yeon possibly need from him?

**Stephen** : of course

Stephen watched as Gray’s typing bubble appeared and disappeared as if he were rethinking every phrase he wrote and deciding it wasn’t good enough. It went on for at least a minute and the anticipation was killing Stephen. He clutched his phone anxiously and nearly fell off his bed when it buzzed with the message Gray finally decided to send.

**Gray** : do you have work tomorrow?

Stephen’s heart raced. That sounded like a date. Was it a date? He was reading too much into it? It was a date right? There was no other way to interpret it. Gray did want to know if he was available tomorrow after all.

**Stephen** : I’m free!! what do you need

Stephen crossed his fingers. Naturally, even if Gray wasn’t requesting that they run away to Paris and live off chocolate and croissants for the rest of their days, he’d do anything Gray asked. Whether Gray knew it or not, he had Stephen wrapped around his finger.

**Gray** : could you walk me home from the campus tomorrow morning?

**Gray** : the Union thugs usually follow me during the day

**Gray** : but they only attack me if they see I’m alone

**Gray** : I don’t want to ask the guys because they’re a bit

**Gray** : anyway

**Gray** : you don’t have to since it’s a bit dangerous

**Gray** : but I’d appreciate it

**Gray** : sorry this is out of the blue

**Gray** : um

**Gray** : Are you still awake

**Gray** : ...

**Gray** : I’ll call you

Stephen stared at his phone in a daze before realizing with a jolt that Gray was about to call him. He panicked and wondered if he looked okay before remembering it was only a phone call. He was being silly. It was only a call.

Still, his heart absolutely skipped over the entirety of Korea when the call screen popped up. His finger hovered over the green receive button before swiping up and tenaciously bringing the phone up to his ear.

“Stephen?”

“Gray.”

Stephen could hear a subtle sigh coming from the other end of the call. “Did you see my texts? I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“It’s only 1 AM in the morning,” Stephen laughed quietly. “Is it a habit of yours to call people past midnight?”

“Not usually.”

“Must be urgent then.”

He could hear Gray shift around uncomfortably. He wondered if he was also in bed. “So why do you think they won’t pick on you if I’m around? I’ve already said I can’t fight.”

“I don’t know,” Gray replied. “I guess you look kind of tough because of your tattoo,” 

Stephen frowned. “I thought you knew, Gray.”

“Knew what?”

“That day when you bought me medicine to return the favor,” he said, scrunching up his eyebrows. “Didn’t you know that--”

“You have scar tissue pain?” Gray interrupted. “Of course I knew.”

“Was it that obvious?”

Gray hesitated. “Well...no. I had my suspicions that you had a neuropathy related condition, but it was the way you...looked at me?”

Stephen’s traitorous heart started up again. “The way I looked at you?”

“Before that day, your face did a funny thing where your pupils dilated, you instantly started blinking more frequently, and your smile widened unconsciously,” Gray elaborated. “But that day, you looked like you were avoiding moving your neck and Stephen, you may not know this, but you have a terrible fake smile.”

Stephen really wanted to dig a hole, crawl in it, and die. His crush was as subtle as a sledgehammer.

“I was trying to figure out what was wrong with the image you were projecting when I recalled a book on neuropathy I read,” Gray continued. “You were exhibiting signs of having scar tissue pain and I remembered that it could be triggered by depression, so I took the liberty of buying you some general pain medicine and anti-depression pills, just to be safe.”

“That was really nice of you, Gray,” Stephen said, warmth growing in his chest. “You didn’t even know me that well.”

“Stephen, why do you have pain in your neck?”

“Er...funny story, I was stabbed in the neck in high school.”

Whenever he started off the story of how he got his tattoo that way, people’s first reaction ranged from concern to horror, with them asking if he was okay and wondering how he survived.

But Gray Yeon was different. “It was either a pen or a needle.”

No, Gray Yeon immediately started theorizing about the tool that was used to maul Stephen’s skin.

Stephen couldn’t help but laugh, despite himself. “ _ Why _ are you like this?”

“So I was right?”

“Kind of. Mind if I explain?”

“Go ahead.”

Stephen settled down to tell Gray what he supposed was his origin story. “When I was in high school, there was this group of friends I had,” Stephen started. “Or at least I thought they were friends. I cared about them a lot. But apparently the feelings weren’t mutual.”

“I was so caught up in finally having people who I could talk to that I was completely unaware of the moment they started hating me.”

“Why would anyone hate you?” Gray asked. “You’re the most non-threatening person I know.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said. “But I’m not really sure what I did wrong. We ate lunch together. We hung out after school almost every day. We had a running joke about the birds being robots the government used to spy on us.” 

“I could debunk that theory fifty different ways.”

“It was a joke, Mr. Quantum Mechanics,” Stephen snorted. “But I was really attached to them. So imagine my surprise when one day, they ask me to come to the roof.”

“Don’t tell me you followed them.” He could very easily imagine Gray smacking his head and thinking what an idiot Stephen was. He couldn’t say he disagreed.

“As soon as I got up there, I was instantly punched in the face,” Stephen recalled. “It was one of the school bullies. I saw one of my friends hand him a 20 dollar bill, so I guess my friends had commissioned him to take me out first or something. It was almost funny how little he had to do before I was within six inches of passing out.”

“And there weren’t any adults around?”

“At my school? No. So there I was, bruised on the inside and the outside, wondering why my friends would pay a bully to wipe me out when one of them crouched in front of me and said--” He cut himself off.

He had started off the story casually, but he didn’t actually think he wanted to tell Gray this part. He didn’t like admitting to himself that he never got past it, even after he graduated. There was a reason thinking too long about it triggered the pain in his neck.

“And said what?” Gray asked, urging him to continue on. 

“...I can’t remember,” he replied truthfully. “The overall memory is a bit of blur. But one thing I can’t forget is hearing this buzz grow louder and louder. I wasn’t sure what it was until there was suddenly a needle stuck in my neck.” His face frowned habitually at the memory of them dragging the needle through his skin, drawing out a bloody smiley face. “They ran away after that and told me I was dead if I told anyone. So I didn’t.”

“They used a tattoo needle to stab you and you didn’t report them?!”

“They were just a bunch of dumb sixteen-year-olds,” Stephen said softly. “They didn’t know what they were doing.”

“You could’ve died if they had made one wrong move and stabbed a vital artery!”

“But they didn’t!” Stephen chirped. “So lucky me, I left the rooftop alive and I got a rad tattoo to cover up the scars!”

“I really don't know whether to applaud your bravery or clown you for your stupidity.”

“Aww, thank you Gray,” Stephen cooed. He didn’t bother to let Gray know he had to stay in the hospital for a few weeks to recover because the scars were too deep to heal on their own. He had started regular medications to numb the pain as per the doctor’s recommendation and antidepressants as per his own because dealing with the memories brought him a darker, more painful place. He’d rather avoid that place.

“...thank you for telling me,” Gray said.

Stephen smiled to himself. “Yeah? Well, you asked for context and I gave it to you.”

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“Wait, don’t you still want me to walk you home tomorrow?”

“Are you doing anything at five?”

“Nope.”

“Then if you could come to the engineering college building? They’re less likely to come after me if they see me with another person.”

“Power in numbers?”

“Sure, take it that way if you want,” Gray said flatly. 

“I like you.”

“Goodnight, Stephen.” 

Gray hung up and Stephen flopped over to grin into his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish there were more people in this fandom T.T


	5. Blood-Red Valentinos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, snap.

Stephen had come to the front of the science building a few minutes early. He figured he was just over-excited about walking Gray home, but he couldn’t help it. This was amazing progress. Maybe next time, he could walk him to a date or something. He was probably being overly-optimistic.

“Is that him?”

He whipped around to see college students staring at him from not too far away. One of them looked at their phone and didn’t bother hiding his examination of Stephen from top to bottom. “Looks like him. Skinnier in person though. Should be able to wrap this up quickly. You got it?”

The second, shorter, student pulled out a brick from his backpack, and Stephen was starting to suspect they weren’t students at all. He took a scared step back, not sure of their intent.

They smiled at him viciously. “Come a little closer. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Yeah,” one drawled, tossing the brick up carelessly. “You’re friends with Gray Yeon, right? Are you waiting for him?”

“I’m walking him...somewhere,” Stephen said, not wanting to divulge the information in case they tried to follow him and Gray.

“Don’t tell me,” the other one sniggered. “That you’re dating him.”

“Gross!” the other one yelled. They howled in laughter, so much they could barely stand up.

“We’re just friends,” Stephen said, clenching his teeth. 

“Aw yeah?” The one with the brick grinned. “We’re his friends too.”

Stephen’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think Gray would make friends with people like you.”

“Look Bryce, his hands are shaking,” one chuckled. “Who’s scared of the big bad Union thug?” 

Ah. So this was the danger Gray had been worried about. Having already met Ben and the rest of Gray’s friends, Stephen knew they were nothing like the two vindictive jerks nearing closer.

“Time to load the launcher,” one cackled, swinging his arms in large counter-clockwise circles before unexpectedly pitching the brick right at Stephen. 

Stephen didn’t have time to take a retreating step to the side before the corner of brick made a direct hit to the side of his head. Sharp, blunt pain struck him and his vision immediately began to swim. He slipped and stumbled backward into the freshly-fallen snow.

“Bullseye!” they cheered, high-fiving one another.

The tall one massaged his fist and squatted next to Stephen. “You stay and keep watch Bryce. I’ll beat him to a pulp.”

“Don’t kill him,” Bryce joked, laughing roughly.

“No promises,” the other responded, delivering a heavy punch to Stephen’s face. “For a guy with such a nice tattoo, you’re as weak as a girl,” he said, shaking his head.

“Girls aren’t weak,” Stephen whispered, his jaw radiating pain. He hoped that Gray wouldn’t come out at that moment. There was no telling the damage Gray would take if he tried to stop them.

“Why, is Gray secretly a girl? Pretty enough to be one,” the Union member simpered. “I just might check one day.” 

He was rearing back for another one when--

“Are you kidding me?!”

Out of nowhere, a purse flew into the hitman’s face and Stephen watched a body zoom into his frame of vision, punching the hitman’s right in the nose. He keeled over, grabbing his nose. “Who--”

The stranger grabbed him by the coat collar and furiously smashed their knee into his face. Stephen shuddered when he heard the crunch of the Union member’s nose breaking before he let out a pained cry and thumped backward into the snow, bloodying it. 

“Stupid thug,” the stranger hissed, kicking him in the ribs for good measure. “No one’s allowed to touch my coffee boy.”

The stranger huffed and crossed their arms. 

Stephen was slightly terrified by his new-found savior, but they seemed to be one of the good guys, so he hesitantly called out. “H-hello?”

His eyes widened as the stranger turned around to reveal a tall girl with distinct sunglasses and an unmistakable frown. She was sneering until she saw him lying in the snow, and for the first time, her face displayed something other than disgust. 

She took a step toward Stephen “Hey, are you--”

“Behind you!”

The other hitman suddenly roared and jumped towards her. She whipped around and deftly dodged his clutch, leaving him to tumble into the snow face first. “Seriously?” she complained, carefully walking towards him in her heels. “Who’s sending you guys?”

The first downed Union member abruptly grabbed her by the neck with two beefy arms before Stephen could even see him coming. He watched helplessly as her feet lifted off the ground and her face reddened as she struggled to breathe.

“Gotcha now,” the hitman growled.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, choking on the words.

The hitman laughed. “No need to apologize to me.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

She swung her leg back and kicked him in the groin with her heel. He cried out and immediately dropped her. Before he could even move, she twisted around and drove her elbow into his side whilst bringing a heel down on his foot. The hitman fell back, face scrunched up in agony. Stephen didn’t think he would be getting up for a while.

WIth one down, she faced the second who had taken a while longer to recover from his nose-dive into the concrete. She squinted and frowned with disdain as a look of recognition blossomed on her face.

“Of course you’d join a gang, Bryce Oh.”

The hitman, apparently named Bryce, took a terrified step back. “I-I don’t want to fight you.”

Stephen didn’t reckon he did. He looked like he was about to pee his pants.

“Then tell me why you and your ugly friends are targeting my coffee boy,” she demanded, stooping over to pick up her purse. Seeing that as his only opportunity to take her down, Bryce made a grab for her while her focus was diverted.

Lightning fast, her leg shot out and her foot made a direct connection with his jaw, spinning it sideways. She careened backward, and for a moment, it looked like she was about to fall, until she vaulted in reverse and delivered a second kick to his face, precisely hooking the toe of her shoe under his jaw. Bryce thudded onto the snow, cradling his face and crying as she landed nimbly, shooting icy daggers at him.

“If you’re going to fight a girl, at least have the decency to let her pick up her purse.” She did just that, unhooking the strap and wrapping it around her forearm, the motion smooth and practiced. This was not the first time she had done this. Stephen watched in amazement as she dragged them both across the lawn by the collar, not seeming to struggle with their combined weight in the slightest. She deposited them at a lamppost, using the strap to tie their legs together and calling the campus police to come pick them up.

Sticking her phone in the pocket of her jacket, she sighed and picked up her shoe, which had snow-washed blood scooped into the heel. 

“My poor Valentino,” she cooed, sadly stroking the bright red shoe. However, her eyes landed on Stephen, and she flippantly tossed the shoe to the side, no longer concerned. 

She kneeled down beside him, quickly examining his head. “You’re gonna want that checked out.”

Stephen didn’t know what to say. How did the perpetually-annoyed customer who hated everyone and everything suddenly appear out of nowhere to save him? Why did she call him her coffee boy? He was so confused--

“Why did you--”

“There was no way I was gonna let them hurt you. The one person in this dumpster fire of a university who gives enough of a damn to actually smile at me every day when everyone else is a heartless bastard.”

Stephen was astonished. 

“Stephen!”

They both saw Gray race out of the building with his full marshmallow outfit, dropping his backpack in shock.

The girl helped Stephen stand up and walked him over to Gray, who immediately began questioning him, asking what happened, who did it, apologizing--

“I’m fine Gray,” Stephen interrupted. 

“...that was a horrible lie, even for you.”

He laughed, though it hurt his head. “Okay, not fine. But a lot less damaged than I would’ve been, thanks to her.”

Gray finally seemed to notice the girl propping up Stephen and looking at Gray.

“Thank you, er--”

“Is he your boy?”

Gray was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

She gave him an annoyed look, more in line with what Stephen expected of her. “Your boyfriend. Is he your boyfriend?”

“Um...” Gray’s eyes flicked to Stephen nervously, completely tongue-tied. Stephen wished she would drop him right there so he could faint and escape this situational nightmare. What was Gray supposed to say? He supposed a better question was: why was he hesitating? They weren’t together. Why didn’t he just tell her no?

She sighed. “This sounds messy.” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Gray. “You.”

“What?”

“Your friend here doesn’t know how to fight and I’d rather not have my coffee boy injured long term, so you’re going to have to learn how to fight so you can defend him.”

An image of Gray doing what the girl did flashed in Stephen’s head and it just didn’t fit.

“He can’t,” Stephen argued. “He’s too busy. I can handle myself.”

She paused and shifted to give him a disbelieving stare. “He was right. You suck at lying.”

“I’ll do it,” Gray said. They both turned to him, shocked for different reasons.

“Gray--”

“You already know my situation. They wouldn’t have come after you if they hadn’t seen me with you. I can’t wear layers all year long. I need to do something.”

“But why resort to fighting?”

“Stephen, there’s a reason you have your tattoo.”

There was a tense silence between them and the girl’s eyes darted between the two of them before she shoved Stephen into Gray’s arms. “Get him checked out. Hire a relationship counselor if you must. But make sure my coffee boy is there in one piece Monday morning.”

She started heading towards the building before turning back to look at Gray. “You look smart. But you also look like me. I suggest you find a weapon.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think I walk around in heels all day for fun?” She snorted and shook her head. “Anyway, I’m late for my recreational cooking class. Take care.”

She picked up her shoes and slipped them on, shaking her head and muttering something about the blood never coming off. 

“...a weapon,” Gray whispered, lost in thought.

“Gray, you don’t have to--”

“Listen, Stephen,” Gray interrupted, looking up at him seriously. “You’re part of this now. The Union knows your name and what you look like. I thought they’d leave you alone because you’re just a random barista. But they didn’t.” He grabbed Stephen’s hand and squeezed it softly. “So I’m not taking my chances. I’m going to protect you no matter what.”

“That’s...that’s...”

Gray frowned. “What?”

“That’s rea--”

Stephen blacked out before he could finish the sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Me from earlier this week*: SHE HAS A NAME. THE GIRL WITH THE GLASSES. UM. YES. YES. YES. YES LILY. EVERYONE BOW TO QUEEN LILY.  
> Oh my gosh, ya'll don't understand how much I love her. Gray, Ben, Stephen, who're they? I only know Lily. I'm freaking out.  
> And she does aRT. Could she bE more perfect. Please, idec if she's not a main character, I'm making her one.


	6. Knights of the Kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been sponsored by ATEEZ's "Sunrise".

When Stephen woke up, he was in a bed. Just not a hospital bed like he had expected.

“Where--”

“He lives!”

Through bleary eyes, he saw one figure enter through a door and come to his side, touching his forehead. “He looks better. Thanks, Gerard.”

“I told you using my magic chakra cards would work!”

“...I think it’s time you leave.”

A taller blurry figure argued with Gray about the reliability of his healing cards before the smaller figure pushed him out the door and closed it with an annoyed huff.

“Sorry you had to hear that Stephen,” Gray said. “I had him watch you while I went and bought some food.”

Stephen sat up, ignoring the ache in his head and absorbing his surroundings as his vision cleared up. He was in a bed, obviously, but the deep cerulean blue of the blanket suggested they weren’t from a hospital. The air didn’t smell of antiseptic, but rather a combination of paint and old books. It was sparsely decorated with one shelf aligned with multiple books with an astonishing range of topics. 

He was in Gray’s bedroom.

“I thought you lived in a dorm!”

Gray crossed his arm and sat at the edge of the bed. “I did. Until the mugging incident. After Ben and the guys got my stuff back, I moved here where it’s incrementally safer. Doesn’t hurt there’s more space either.” His eyes trailed Stephen’s body up and down, and even though Gray’s gaze was purely analytical, Stephen felt himself heat up anyhow. “Does it still hurt?”

“I’ll survive but...why did you bring me here instead of the hospital?”

“Knowing the staff there, they’d hand you off to a half-decent med student,” Gray reasoned. “My apartment was closer so I called Ben and the others to help carry you here.”

He watched Stephen shift and start moving to get out from under the blanket. “What are you doing?”

“Trying not to overstay my welcome,” Stephen replied, already more than a bit flustered from realizing he had been passed out on Gray’s bed and Gray had probably watched him sleep and he was hoping with everything he had that he hadn’t drooled.

Gray stood up and guarded the door. “Yeah no, you’re staying here for the night.”

Stephen froze. “W-what?”

Gray gestured at the window, where the sky was rapidly darkening.”It’s already 8 PM. The university is crawling with Union thugs at night. If you go out now, you probably won’t get away with just a concussion.” 

“I guess you’re right,” Stephen said. “So...impromptu sleepover?”

“Yes, but I’m kicking you out if you even dare suggest we paint our nails and trade secrets.”

“What about watching all the Barbie movies and ranking them by best dress?”

“You’re treading thin ice, Stephen Ahn.”

“Then can I cook for you at least?

Gray’s eyebrows raised up in surprise. “You can cook? I thought you could only make coffee.”

Stephen huffed, faux-irritated. “Don’t categorize me by my career of choice. I am a man of many talents.” He swung his legs off the bed and stretched, body stiff from laying for so long. “Where’s the kitchen?”

Gray gestured for Stephen to follow him and it dawned on Stephen it was the first time he had seen Gray in casual clothing. He definitely hadn’t taken him to be a sweatpants kind of person. It was nice seeing Gray more relaxed where he felt safer. 

“It’s not MasterClass,” Gray started, leading Stephen to a kitchen island near the small living room where there was a small couch, a few more shelves of books, and one small tv perched on the floor. The kitchen itself was kind of cramped, with the stove, oven, and dishwasher occupying one half and the fridge, cabinets, sink, and microwave in the other. 

“But why do you have so much kale and almond milk in your fridge?” Stephen questioned, peering inside the well-populated fridge, which was 75% greenery.

“Alex helps me out with grocery shopping,” Gray stated. 

“Was he the vegan?”

“Listen to the kale and speak from the heart,” Gray said under his breath. 

“Then what about the all-organic juice blender?” Stephen asked, pointing at the unopened box sitting at the edge of the counter.

“Also Alex.”

“And the essential oil rack too?”

“Mmyep.” He glanced at it contemptively. “I wish he and Gerard would keep their pseudo-science to themselves.”

“A little lavender essential oil never hurt anyone,” Stephen laughed. “Okay, so kale aside, I think I can work with what we have here. Wanna help?”

A few minutes later, Gray and Stephen were working back to back. Stephen was stirring store-bought kimchi he found in the back of the fridge while Gray chopped up some vegetables. As he did so, Stephen couldn't help thinking that it felt like he lived with Gray and this could’ve been part of their regular evening routine, making dinner together. Then he wondered what an entire day with Gray would be like. He was starting to think being ambushed by those hitmen was his lucky break because there was no way Gray would’ve brought him there otherwise. And there was certainly no chance Stephen would’ve been brave enough to invite himself.

He lowered the pan’s heat and turned around, noticing Gray was cutting the scallions at snail’s space. At that rate, they’d be eating dinner by next Christmas.

“Gray, you’re using the wrong technique,” Stephen said. The kitchen was too small for him to come to Gray’s side so he leaned in from behind and carefully placed his arms on either side of Gray’s body. 

“What’re you doing?” Gray asked, suddenly frozen. 

Stephen placed a hand over Gray’s holding the knife. “It’s faster this way.” Then he laced their fingers together and controlled their movements, rapidly chopping the onions and shifting them over before also annihilating the cabbage. Gray only watched and moved the vegetables along with Stephen’s movements, caught in a stupor, and unable to speak. 

“And finished,” Stephen announced, letting go of Gray’s hand and smiling proudly. “I now knight you king of the kitchen.”

Gray crossed his arms and turned around to face him. “But I didn’t actually do anything.”

“Shhh,” Stephen whispered. “It’s the intended action that matters. Now go away while I finish. What do you usually do when you get home?”

“Depends. I either sleep or watch a documentary.”

Stephen closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “For such a pretty boy, you are insanely boring.”

“What does being pretty have to do with being boring?” Gray asked, trying to rationalize it.

“Ahaaa, so you acknowledge the fact you have the hobbies of a senior citizen!” 

“No I don’t!” Gray complained. “I also read books and listen to lecture tapes and-- damn it.”

“Hey, I don’t mind.” Stephen slowly brought his hand up to the side of Gray’s face and was about to tuck a stowaway strand of hair behind his ear until he paused and dropped his hand. 

Gray frowned in confusion before shrugging and leaving the kitchen while murmuring something about having to set up the television.

Turning back to the pan and preparing the rest of the ingredients, Stephen was glad he had stopped before potentially crossing a boundary Gray didn’t want traversed. He had already told Gray multiple times he liked him on top of complimenting him on how pretty he was, but he just wasn’t sure Gray ever took him seriously. In the case Gray still thought he was kidding, he couldn’t act out of emotion. He liked what he had with Gray so far. He wasn’t going to ruin it.

About fifteen minutes later, Stephen carefully balanced kimchi pancakes on two plates and placed them on the kitchen island where Gray was sitting and idly flipping through channels on his television. 

“Three pancakes for the senior citizen in the pale yellow sweater,” Stephen announced, sliding a plate over to him. Gray self consciously pulled at the collar of his sweater, shooting Stephen an annoyed look.

“If you hate me so much, why are we friends?”

“People who are susceptible to injury have to stick together!” Stephen elated. He sat down on a stool next to Gray and teasingly plonked his head on Gray’s shoulder. 

“ _ You’re _ susceptible to injury,” Gray huffed. “I’m going to learn how to fight like that girl in the sunglasses so I can protect you.”

Stephen popped up and tilted his head. “Wait, you really meant that back there?”

“Of course I did,” Gray replied, taking a bite of the kimchi pancake. “By the way, this is amazing and you are now obligated to make me more.”

“Gray, the way you’re talking makes me think you want to be friends,” Stephen said, a playful lilt to his voice.

“What, do you want me to fly to Greece and bring you back a peace branch?” Gray snorted. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea, seeing as it was originally mine.”

Gray stopped and glanced at him mid-bite. “Hey, Stephen...”

Stephen leaned forward, thoughts colliding in a panicked mess. “What?”

“You have an onion on your shirt.”

Stephen reddened and reared back, brushing away the offending scallion from his shirt. Gray giggled (sending Stephen’s heart yodeling to the top of a Swedish mountain) and finished the rest of the pancakes at a terrifying speed. For someone so small, he had a reputable appetite. 

“So what do you wanna do now?” Stephen asked, sliding over his pancakes to Gray. 

“To prove to you I’m not an elderly person, I made a list while you were cooking,” Gray said, pulling out his phone. “You’re...21, right? Do you drink?”

Stephen smiled. “I’m 22 and no, I don’t.”

Gray looked up at him from his phone. “Why not? Alex drinks vegan beer like there’s no tomorrow and passes out like there’s no today when we go out.”

Stephen felt a small twang of jealousy when he heard that. “I thought you weren’t close with them.”

“I’ve known them since high school,” Gray explained. “I graduated early but I still lived in the area so they managed to keep in contact with me. Imagine just how happy I was when they stalked me all the way to the university.” 

Before Stephen could probe his relationships any further, Gray asked Stephen why he didn't drink. 

"Always seemed like a bad idea," he answered, shrugging. "I bet everyone who does has an embarrassing story about where they passed out cold and woke up with some very interesting memories."

Gray pursed his lips and stared down at the plate. 

"The flawless Gray Yeon wouldn't happen to have any of his own," he teased.

"Of course not!" Gray defended, crossing his arms. "And I'm not flawless. There are lots of things I can't do."

"I'd like a comprehensive list with a PowerPoint presentation."

Gray rolled his eyes. "Well, I can't paint. I can barely follow a Bob Ross tutorial."

Stephen lit up. “Great idea! I can screencast a video onto your TV and we can set up easels and you gotta have some white aprons in there and--” He pulled out his own phone and looked up a tutorial picking a random one at the top of a list. “You have paint right?”

“Do I look like an art major?” Gray deadpanned, rather critically. “Why would I just randomly have paint and art easels lying around?”

“....”

“Okay fine, they’re in the back of the closet to the left of the bathroom.” He shook his head good-naturedly as Stephen excitedly made his way to the closet. “How’d you even figure I had those?”

“Ah, well--” Stephen said, a paintbrush between his teeth. “You’re a senior citizen and the senior citizens at the community center all take art to relieve their arthritis.” 

“I hate you so much.”

“Nah.” He haphazardly dumped a bundle of paintbrushes, aprons, and other necessary materials onto the floor of the living. “You love me.”

“...not yet.”

Stephen frowned. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Gray said, putting away the plates and joining Stephen in the living room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess I'm dropping those three mini-stories :D congrats to me and thank you again for reading my story!!


	7. A Piece of Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning.

“What is that?!”

“And there you have it: a peaceful mountainscape of red peonies,” the smiling man projected on the television concluded.

Stephen’s eyes flicked from the masterpiece on the tv to Gray’s creation, comparing them. “Uh Gray--”

“I put too much red paint in the grass,” Gray muttered, eyeing his canvas nervously. “What do you think Stephen?”

“Honestly? It looks like a murder scene.”

Gray pouted. “It doesn’t look _that_ bad. You can tell that they’re supposed to be flowers.”

“The hills are alive with the sound of dying childr--”

Gray flicked his brush at Stephen, splattering red paint all across Stephen’s face. “Hey!”

“Hehe.”

Stephen grabbed his own paintbrush and catapulted a glob of sky-blue paint right onto the arm of Gray’s yellow sweater. 

“Bullseyes” he cheered triumphantly. Gray looked down at his sweater before giving Stephen an evil smirk and picking up a tube of paint.

“I should warn you, I can predict every single move you’re going to make.”

“Bring it on, senior citizen,” Stephen challenged, wielding his own bottle of white-out. He strode across the living room and brazenly streaked a smudge of paint across Gray’s cheekbone. “Or should I say...” He brought his lips to Gray’s ear. 

“...Grayon.”

Not even a second later, Gray slapped him on the arm, and Stephen backed away laughing. “Don’t you get it? Crayon? Grayon? Because you have gray hair and your name is Gray Yeon--”

“I hate you.”

Stephen shook his head and grinned, wiping red paint from his cheek. “Nah, you love me.”

“No, our friendship is hereby retracted,” Gray said, pressed as could be. “The Union thugs can have you for dinner.”

“Sadly, I don’t reckon I taste very good.”

“I bet you taste great!” Gray said encouragingly, before blushing furiously and covering his face. “Shoot, forget I said anything”

“Sooo does that mean you won’t be kicking me to the streets, Grayon?” he replied teasingly, struggling not to blush himself. _Get ahold of yourself Stephen, now is_ **_not_ ** _the time to wonder what it’d be like to--_

“Keep calling me Grayon and watch what happens,” Gray clapped back, though he had a wide grin on his face. 

Stephen’s heart expanded uncontrollably. “You should really smile more.”

“And you could really use a decent sense of humor.”

“I’ll have you know I’m in the company of Shrek and that one guy from the Office.”

“Micheal Scott?”

“Ahaaaa, I may not taste good, but you have good taste.”

“You’re so--”

“Hilarious?”

Gray giggled. “Dumbass.”

“Dude, you are so cute.”

Gray beamed and pretended to flip his hair over his shoulder. “You know what, Shrek, you’re not so bad-looking yourself.”

They grinned at each other a moment before bursting out laughing. 

\------

It was 11 PM and they were watching the Office, sprawled out on the floor to be eye-level with the television. But neither of them seemed to really be paying attention.

"Stephen," Gray said, an arm flopped over his brow and muting the tv. "One time I drank too much and Ben and Gerard talked me into asking out this girl that was there."

"Aw yeah?"

"It was so awkward," Gray laughed. "Because I don't even like girls, so I went up to her in a mess like 'so how flexible do you like your guys?'"

"You...don't like girls?"

"I don't like much of anyone," Gray confessed. "I definitely didn't like Alex and Gerard after that. I threatened to dock their mechanics grades by 20 points if they told anyone."

"Gray!"

Gray grinned at Stephen. "I'm petty, what about it?"

Stephen's brought a hand up to his mouth, eyebrows creased in disbelief. "Oh my gosh, I really like you."

"You're always saying that," Gray mumbled sleepily.

"Well, I always mean it," Stephen said, rolling over to him and bumping their shoulders together. 

"Hey," Gray said, a light yawn escaping him. "You're so weird."

"Gray said, forgetting he was the one who suggested we follow a Bob Ross tutorial and ended up painting a murder site."

"That was an accident," Gray whined, turning to the side and weakly thumping Stephen on the chest. "You're no Picasso either."

"You're right, I'm more of a Michaelangelo," Stephen said seriously. "Sculptor and sculpted by the gods."

"Then the gods must've used a toothpick and 50 cent play-doh," Gray retorted, nestling into Stephen's side. 

"I'm going to kick you out."

"I live here, dummy." 

"I rea--". Stephen paused and softened, realizing Gray had fallen asleep snuggled comfortably against him, hand lightly clutching Stephen's shirt. 

He nervously reached out to brush Gray’s hair behind his ear. “Hey...are you really asleep? Make a snarky joke if you’re awake.”

He waited for a second. Gray didn’t utter a word. Stephen relaxed and stared at the ceiling, smiling to himself. “Gray Yeon. I like you so much. You’re pretty and funny and smart. So smart. I hope that even if you don’t like me back...we can still be friends.”

His exhaustion was starting to catch up to him. Before long, Stephen had fallen asleep as well.

\-----

Stephen's eyes slowly creaked open, his mind muddled. He smiled faintly, remembering the dream he just had where he was at Gray’s and he got to make him pancakes and paint--

Oh shoot.

He froze, realizing Gray was actually sleeping on the floor next to him in very close proximity. He could scarcely move as Gray moved around restlessly, looking troubled even in his sleep. 

Stephen bit his lip and dare whispered, “Gray.”

Gray’s eyes snapped open and Stephen wasn’t going to lie, the sight of those violet eyes in the morning paired with his barely-awake consciousness scared the crap out of him. More importantly, he wondered what Gray was going to say. He doubted he had planned to get so close to Stephen.

Their eyes met and Stephen held his breath.

Gray blinked and smiled dream-dazed. “Hey.”

Stephen smiled back softly, relieved. “Hey.”

“Wanna make me pancakes again?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

“Stephen, I was only asking for pancakes.”

“Maybe get off my arm first?”

Gray slowly sat up, rubbing away the sleep from his eyes. “Do you feel better?”

After a night of cooking for Gray, painting with him, and falling asleep in front The Office snuggled right next to him?

“Yes.”

Gray scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Do you wanna shower here? I could lend you some clothes.”

“K-kind offer,” Stephen stuttered. “But I don’t think any of your clothes would fit me. I’d better just start heading to my place.” Also, showering in such close proximity to Gray would actually stop his heart and he’d rather be alive to make Gray more food.

“I’ll go with you!” Gray immediately offered, scrambling up and reaching for a discarded jacket on the couch. 

“That’s really sweet Gray, but I’ll be fine,” Stephen said, getting up as well. It did something funny to him, seeing Gray be the one to want to accompany him. He spotted his jacket on a chair at the kitchen island and threw it on, finding his shoes near the door to the bathroom.

Gray deflated marginally. “Okay. Um...” He looked around the living room, starting to fill up with warm yellow light as the sun rose. His eyes settled on the window behind Stephen. “Last night was...really nice, Stephen.”

“Never had a sleep-over before?”

“I don’t think gaming until 4 AM at Alex’s dorm counts,” Gray muttered, earning a small chuckle from him. 

“I can come again if you want,” Stephen said. He started approaching the apartment’s entrance. “You already know where to find me.”

Gray opened the door and let him step through. “At the coffee shop fueling my relentless sweet tooth?

“Precisely.” He shivered as he stepped into the cold. He turned around to look at Gray, still in his sweater from the previous night and sporting atrocious bed head. He was adorable. He reached out to pat Gray on the head. “Stay safe.”

“Uh huh.” 

Then Stephen left. Gray silently watched him go down the stairs and didn’t stop watching until Stephen found the main road, turned a corner, and disappeared from view. Then Gray closed the door, stared at the ceramic tile beneath him, and started crying for reasons he couldn’t understand yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno, I suddenly don't feel like posting anymore. Huh. Must be a moral thing. More likely a Christian thing. I don't reckon anymore of my Weak Hero fics will be romantically-inclined, for the aforementioned reasons. If you send hate for me having religious beliefs, the entire fic may or may not disappear.
> 
> Anyways, I'll drop a google drive link to the full thing, since it's all been written and I'd rather not have it go to waste. However, I'll still make (platonic) fanfics because I'm not stopping till Stephen comes back. 
> 
> Link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cq6gNPVOwbQXu7dMs-9UgplECmjKyMDUx-E6353r4IU/edit?usp=sharing
> 
> Also, I apologize in advance T_T
> 
> Stay chill and stream ATEEZ's new comeback.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this was supposed to be a one-shot. I just got carried away. I completed the entire fic before posting so to the two people who read Weak Hero fanfics: Bon appetit.


End file.
